


all by myself on an uncharted island in an endless sea

by rocoroloco (wafumayo)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anesthesia, Dirty Talk, Engaged Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Explicit Language, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafumayo/pseuds/rocoroloco
Summary: Goro’s eyes shot open and he clambered into a sitting position again. “Ravish me until I forget who I am.”“For as long as you want,” Akira said agreeably. “Although, technically speaking, Goro, you’ve already forgotten who you are.”ORWhen Akechi had to have his wisdom teeth extracted, Futaba tagged along with Akira, delighted at the chance to get some blackmail on the former Detective Prince. Unfortunately, what she got instead was a front row ticket to one of the most uncomfortable sights she's ever had to lay eyes on. It was just their luck that Akechi Goro had a most unique reaction to general anesthesia.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 15
Kudos: 241





	all by myself on an uncharted island in an endless sea

**Author's Note:**

> (TW: amnesia (temporary), anesthesia)
> 
> Note that this is rated T because nothing sexual happens, but there is quite some explicit language being used so if asked, I am open to bumping up the rating. In my opinion, dirty talk without any sex is 'T' material, but I'm not very good at judging these because almost everything flies for me.
> 
> Can you believe that this fic took me almost a week to write just because I kept getting distracted, and that this was birthed from a simple "ice cream" prompt? 
> 
> This fic is inspired by [ this fic ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9828782/chapters/22069979) from the VLD fandom. The general idea of "amnesia brought upon by anesthesia" is there, but from that point forth, it became something quite different and leagues out of my usual comfort zone. 
> 
> As per usual in a lot of my stories, this fic features aged-up, established relationship ShuAke, but this time, they're actually engaged.

The Incident started when Goro woke up from anesthesia.

Well, to be honest, it all started about half a year earlier, when a trip to the dentist for a check-up revealed that the wisdom teeth on Goro’s bottom row of teeth had to be removed lest he wanted cavities and damage to his existing teeth. As soon as he’d heard of the possibility of his bottom row becoming uneven, he’d immediately interrupted the dentist to make an appointment at the earlier possible date. Futaba had laughed at Goro’s new nightly ritual of meticulously staring at his teeth in the mirror and Akira’s new nightly routine of showering Goro with compliments about his mouth until they retired back to their bedroom in Leblanc’s modified attic. It’d been funny at the time, so long as Futaba made sure that she turned off all the bugs that still remained in Leblanc for security reasons.

Until the Incident.

The Incident (as the Sakura family plus Morgana now refer to it as) really hit its stride when Goro woke up from the general anesthesia he’d been under, two whole teeth lighter than when he’d started. He’d been generally groggy and thirsty, but doing relatively alright, according to the dentist, who left the room to sort out billing with the receptionist and to give Goro a little privacy until he completely recovered. Futaba had gone with Akira to see how Goro was holding up, hopefully get some videos of post-wisdom teeth Goro so she could blackmail him with it. She’d seen video compilations on YouTube of people forgetting their age or thinking the tissue was cotton candy or something. It’d be a fun little video to edit into the wedding montage she was already making.

She’d thought of it all in quite an optimistic way. Until Goro saw Akira and became full-on thirsty, and not in the way Futaba ever wanted a front seat view of.

It started with Akira walking in and Goro going wide-eyed on the reclined orthodontic chair. “Who are you?” He demanded, sounding as hostile as he’d been in Shido’s Palace. The effect was ruined by the fact he had to slur his words around the tissues stuffed into his mouth, but the acerbic tone and sharp rust-red glare more than made up for it.

Futaba, who had accompanied Akira a step behind him into the room, froze up immediately. She was retroactively ashamed that her immediate reaction had been to clutch at the back of Akira’s shirt, but the aggression in Goro’s voice had been so sharp that Futaba half expected him to jump off the bed and attack them in a rage. She chanced a glance up at Akira’s face, wondering what she’d see there. Fear over the same thing Futaba was worried about? Shock and loneliness that Goro’d somehow forgotten his partner of three years?

A thousand other possibilities flitted through Futaba’s brain and she still managed to whiff. Akira was staring at Goro, his cheeks flushed, his mouth slightly agape in an absentminded way; Futaba doubted that Akira was aware of how absolutely lovestruck he looked and wondered fearfully if this was how Akira had looked like underneath the mask the whole time Goro was having his mental breakdown in the bowels of that cursed cognitive cruise ship. He looked absolutely enchanted.

“Don’t you remember me? I’m Akira,” Akira said.

“Akira who?” Goro snapped back.

“Kurusu Akira.”

“Am I supposed to know you or something?!”

Futaba was half worried that it would become a non-stop loop of “I’m Akira” followed by “Akira who” but Akira was able to break it with a very simple and calm: “Your fiancé. We’re going to get married in six months.”

Goro’s eyes widened and Futaba shrank back a little further, worried that Goro was seconds away from physically leaping out of the bed and throttling Akira. Even when in his right mind, he didn’t really like it when Akira talked about their upcoming wedding around people, but this Goro? The one who didn’t even remember the love of his life? The one who looked exactly like when Crow had berserked himself and straddled Akira, trying to literally tear Joker’s heart out of his chest with his bare hands while tanking the combined efforts of four different Personae and three angry teens?

Futaba was already planning Akira’s funeral in her head.

But the second surprise of the day greeted her when Goro sat up straighter, his arms shaking a little with the effort of pushing himself up. Without the support of the chair, he seemed like he was seconds away from toppling back down.

“No way,” he said breathlessly. “We’re engaged? I must be the luckiest man alive.”

Futaba felt her thoughts grind to a halt and she squinted her eyes at Goro. He certainly still looked like a feral barbarian, with his wild crow’s nest of bed hair, and eyes a little too wide, a smidgeon too intense. But, and Futaba wanted to gag, there was a subtle hint of colour on his cheeks that matched the flush of Akira’s, and she found herself wondering if this was just how Akira and Goro were in the bedroom in normal times. She never wanted to think about their sex life outside of when they did it (so she could appropriately mute her bugs) but now that was all she could think about.

“Usually I’m the one thinking I’m lucky,” Akira said lightly. He took a step forward and Futaba quickly let go of the back of his shirt; she could see the wrinkles in the fabric from how hard she’d been clutching at him. “Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to have met you, Goro. To live in the same city as you. To-”

“Take off your pants and let me suck your dick.”

“I…what?”

“Then fuck me into this mattress,” Goro said before settling back into the dentist chair again, reaching down with his hands and trying to shimmy his way out of his skinny jeans. “Make me yours.”

“You’re already…wait, what?”

Akira was blue-screening right in front of her and Futaba couldn’t even bring her brain cells together enough to take a picture and laugh at him because holy shit? She’s managed to avoid seeing or hearing any part of Akira and Goro’s bedroom life, only to have it forcibly thrown in front of her face.

The blush on Goro’s face was way redder now, and his squirming was taking on a distinctly suggestive tone. He looked less like he was trying to do a variation of the worm and more like he was trying to waggle his ass in the air like a cat in heat. Only he was on his back. His fingers were clumsy enough from the anesthesia that he was having a hard time with the button, but he was bound to get it sooner or later. Akira hurried over the rest of the way to the reclined chair and grabbed Goro’s arms to keep it away from his nether regions. To Futaba’s dismay, that seemed to really set Goro off.

Goro twisted his arms a little so he could grasp Akira’s arms in a firm grip. He heaved himself upwards, and using the momentum, he slammed his mouth against Akira’s. Or tried to anyway, his coordination so shit that he accidentally ended up bashing his head into Akira’s whole chest instead.

“Goro, are you okay?” Akira said, choosing to laser focus on the one problem he could deal with. He gently pushed Goro away so that he could take a look at his forehead but Goro let out a whine that sounded, in Futaba’s opinion, like a particularly pathetic chihuahua left out in the rain. For Akira, though, it must have meant something different, because his face turned even redder (to the point Futaba legitimately worried that Akira would faint from too much blood in his head) and he looked down, visibly sweating.

For Futaba’s own sanity, she chose not to ask or think about what situation Akira’s heard that specific sound from Goro before.

Just because Akira and Futaba were dealing with their own little crises didn’t mean that Goro was deterred in any way. If anything, he leapt at the chance that Akira’s hesitation gave him. He shuffled his ass backwards a little to give himself more room and, with his arms still locked with Akira’s, he began to mouth at Akira’s pants. It looked distinctly unsexy, like he was doing a yoga pose, but it was certainly effective in getting Akira to back up a little.

“Whoa, OK!” Akira yelped, his voice a higher pitch than Futaba’s ever heard from him. “Let’s all calm down, okay?”

“I’m calm,” Futaba couldn’t resist saying. Akira shot her a Look from over his shoulder.

“Don’t look at her,” Goro said, even though from Futaba’s angle, she didn’t see him raise his head at all. It must have been some sort of detective sense. “Look at me. Rail me into this mattress. Really make me beg for it. Come on.” He was extremely and unfortunately articulate for someone who just woke up from wisdom teeth surgery, his stitches hardly settled in. Is the anesthesia still dulling his senses? Does horniness act as some sort of adrenaline-induced painkiller?

“Not here,” Akira said nervously. He managed to push Goro away and settle him back down into the chair, hovering over him as if to keep him down with his presence alone.

“Ravish me,” Goro said, falling limp and closing his eyes.

“Not here,” Akira repeated. With Goro finally a little more sedate and a little less handsy, Akira backed off and said. “Let’s pay the nice dentist man and we’ll go home, alright? If you’re still feeling it, I’ll dick you down good.”

“TMI,” Futaba muttered and Akira winced in apology.

Goro’s eyes shot open and he clambered into a sitting position again. “Ravish me until I forget who I am.”

“For as long as you want,” Akira said agreeably. “Although, technically speaking, Goro, you’ve already forgotten who you are.”

Akira lent Goro his shoulder and helped him up onto his feet, stumbling a little bit under Goro’s weight. Akira was the same height as Goro now (a fact that Goro vehemently denies even with the physical evidence right in front of his eyes), which made it pretty easy for him to help him walk around, but Goro seemed to be leaning his entire body weight onto Goro’s shoulder. Not only due to the remaining effects of the anesthesia, but he also seemed to be rubbing his cheek into Akira’s shoulder like an overgrown cat.

“Stay strong, Akira!” Futaba exclaimed, holding her fists up and out in moral support.

The dentist was deep in the middle of some discussion with the receptionist, but when he saw the three emerge from the back, he exclaimed, “A-ha! Sleeping beauty awakes!”

“Please knock him out again,” Futaba said earnestly. The dentist seemed to think Futaba was joking because he just boomed with laughter.

“I’d like to pay, please,” Akira said, managing to sound as confident and suave as usual while Goro was starting to rub himself against Akira’s side.

He couldn’t manoeuvre himself to completely press himself into Akira, so it unfortunately had the effect of him humping the air more than his fiancé. Futaba looked away in a fruitless endeavour to preserve her sanity. Goro’s dignity was long gone, there was no point trying to protect that.

Akira skillfully handed the receptionist his credit card with one hand while managing to defend his dick from Goro’s wandering fingers with his other. It seemed that Goro had given up on humping Akira and had settled for trying to fondle Akira’s dick like he was a bored student fiddling around with a pen.

The receptionist professionally did not say anything, as if she couldn’t see any of what was happening right in front of her, and went about finishing the transaction. The dentist looked sickly fascinated and was shaking his head in disbelief.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen such a bad reaction to anesthesia,” he commented, looking and sounding like he was seconds away from pulling out a memo pad to start taking down notes. “Memory loss is fairly common, but an increase in libido? Fascinating.”

He’s always like this, Futaba wanted to say, but she managed to bite it back.

Akira ignored them all like a champ. He accepted the credit card and a bottle of painkillers from the receptionist, shifted Goro a little bit higher onto his shoulder, and started towards the door. Desperate to escape this whole situation as soon as possible, Futaba raced towards the exit and held it open for him. She turned back around to gesture Akira forward but immediately froze up, her eyes widening until they were as wide as saucers.

Somehow Goro had managed to get one hand down Akira’s pants and, seemingly in a bid to avoid being arrested for public indecency, Akira had gone from lending Goro his shoulder to straight-up bridal carrying him. Goro was forced to loop his arms around Akira’s neck in order to keep himself from falling out of his arms, and he had angled his face uncomfortably close to Akira’s. Their noses were practically brushing each other, and their breaths intermingled with every exhale they took. Goro probably smelled awful from the procedure, his mouth having been forcibly kept open and dry for hours, but Akira had a ridiculously soft look in his eye as he stared at Goro wriggling forward towards him. He looked as if he was holding a priceless treasure in his arms instead of 64 kilograms’ worth of struggling dead weight.

The receptionist was turned away, staring at the wall of the clinic as if the secrets of the universe were printed on it. The dentist had been waving cheerily as if nothing was wrong about the picture but even he was averting his eyes now, busying himself with a folder that he was reading upside-down. The whole scene was so uncomfortably awkward that Futaba had half a mind to remove her glasses from her face and her presence from the premises.

“Oh my God,” Futaba blurted out instead. “Are you serious?”

“He wouldn’t stop grabbing for my dick,” Akira whined, tearing his eyes away from Goro to look at Futaba, but he was sorely mistaken if he thought Futaba would feel sorry for him at all when she could see the slowly-growing tent in his pants.

"Oh, Christ,” Sojiro exclaimed when he saw Akira and Futaba approach the car. “You two're kidding me, right? You can't be serious?”

“That’s what I said, Sojiro!” yelled Futaba, overwhelmed with the joy of having someone on her side. She slid into the passenger’s seat and slammed the door shut, toeing off her shoes and curling in on herself as if to protect the last vestiges of her innocence. “We’re probably going to get blacklisted from that clinic thanks to you guys.”

“He won’t stop grabbing at me,” Akira explained calmly, as if he was being logical and reasonable about the whole situation. He leaned down and carefully placed Goro into the back of the car before scooting in as well. As soon as Goro was settled in with a seat belt, the former detective leaned over with a loud whine and grabbed at Akira’s arm.

“Why aren’t you holding me?” Goro said, his voice an octave higher and a distressingly sweet tone to his voice. “Hold me.” From the side mirror, Futaba could make out Goro’s silhouette as he leaned forward and covered the entirety of the back seat with his body. He seemed to want to pull Akira closer towards him, yet paradoxically, refused to make room in the car for Akira to sit down. “You’re my fiancé, aren’t you? You’re supposed to hold me, I believe.”

Futaba reached over for the radio and turned it on, fiddling with the volume until she could feel the seats underneath her rumble slightly with the vibrations. She’d rather make herself go deaf than have to listen to Goro speak to Akira in that tone of voice for even one more second. Sojiro winced and turned it down but unfortunately, the lower volume meant that they could both hear the conversation going on in the back of the car.

“I’m going to need to sit down and put my seat belt on,” Akira said patiently.

“I’ll protect you,” Goro declared with startling confidence despite being unable to even sit up in the car seat properly. “I’ll protect you more than a seat belt ever can.”

“Alright then,” Akira said agreeably.

“We won’t be leaving here unless you buckle that boy in,” Sojiro said sternly.

“If we’re lucky, the police will catch us and arrest them and we’ll never have to deal with those lovebirds again,” Futaba mumbled. Sojiro leveled her with a stern Look and Futaba curled herself into a tighter ball, feeling the waves of disappointment coming off of Sojiro as if they were a physical force. She was lucky that the radio was loud enough to cover up her words, but also that the two in the back were so engrossed with each other that they seemed oblivious to the world around them.

“Did you hear that, Goro?” Akira said, his voice gentle and soothing as he coaxed Goro to sit up straight to make room for himself. “We won’t be able to go home unless you let me buckle myself in.”

Goro grumbled and put up a halfhearted show of fighting back but it was clear that even Akira’s hands on his shoulders was having an effect on him. His squirming seemed to be from discomfort, but the kind of discomfort you’d get from being hot and bothered more than anything else.

“Remember what I told you?” Akira said, managing to keep his voice pitched low and patient. For the umpteenth time, Futaba wondered why Akira chose to work as middle management for a coffee bean company and not a daycare worker. “I have to ravish you when we get home, right? You want me to give you a good dicking until you can’t even remember who you are.” Oh, hm.

“Hoo boy,” said Sojiro.

“Oh, god,” said Futaba.

“Oh yeah,” said Goro.

But Akira had managed to settle himself in, seat belt around himself, so the ends justified the means. Goro grabbed onto Akira’s arm and clung there like a koala.

“At least that means he won’t try to unbuckle himself and jump out the car,” Sojiro muttered before he stepped on the pedal and slowly started their trip back to sanctuary. Unfortunately for everyone in the front of the car, Goro was not content to just lie there and enjoy Akira’s company in silence. Even with the radio on, they could hear Goro whining for Akira to touch his heard and his shoulders, could hear Akira quietly explaining to Goro that they had to wait until they got home.

It was like watching a video of a praying mantis devouring the head of a hornet. Futaba desperately wanted to avert her eyes and focus her attention on the city-scape as Sojiro drove through it at turtle speed (thanks to the heavy weekend-afternoon traffic), but she couldn’t help but dart her eyes at the side mirror to see just what was going on in the back of the car.

Goro, once pressed against Akira’s side and grasping onto his arm with his whole body not unlike how a baby monkey would cling to its mother, had migrated downwards and forwards, his face essentially planted into the tent in Akira’s pants. Akira was trying to push Goro away, but Futaba’s seen Akira and Goro before when they were really frustrated with each other, and knew that if the two of them really wanted to, they could bowl each other right over with one hand. With Goro's current state of boneless floppiness, there was really no reason that Akira couldn't just overpower him and hold him in place.There were two sad wads of bloody wet cotton of the floor of the car, no doubt spat from Goro’s mouth.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Akira said, gently pushing Goro’s head off his crotch and back onto his shoulder. “I don’t think you want to be doing any of that with your mouth until tomorrow.”

“You’re bleeding!” Goro exclaimed and, if Futaba so squinted, she could definitely confirm. There was a small patch of blood on the crotch of Akira’s jeans, right where Goro had presumably been teething out at earlier.

“I’m not, you are,” Akira said before snagging some tissues from his back pocket. “Here, use this to stop the bleeding in your mouth.”

Goro’s mouth had still been hanging open in an absentminded way so Akira ripped the tissue in two and easily worked them and his index finger inside, reaching into the back of the mouth where the wounds are. Goro’s eyes were hooded and he closed his mouth around Akira’s finger. Drool, thick and stained red, dribbled down Goro’s chin and onto Akira’s ruined pants, as Goro let out a soft moan. Futaba could see Akira’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, but his expression managed to remain unaffected. She could tell Akira’s fingers were moving more than necessary from the minute bulging in Goro’s cheeks, in the way that Goro’s eyelids flickered, his gaze fixed upwards at Akira’s face.

“I think you got it,” Sojiro said dryly.

Akira jumped, seemingly awoken from a trance, and he removed his finger from Goro’s mouth. Goro fell forward slightly, chasing after Akira’s hand.

“I want you to suck on my fingers when we get home,” Goro said, though he seemed to be having a bit of a tough time saying the words around the two tissues in his mouth. Much bigger and more obtrusive than the cotton pads had been, he seemed to really have to work with his mouth and tongue to make sure what he was saying could be understood. With his cheeks puffed out from them and the swelling, he looked like a pouting chipmunk. “Three…no, four…I’ll fuck your mouth with my fingers, really let you feel it in the back of your throat, as if it was my cock.”

The two had been slowly inching together the whole time, the tips of their nose touching. Akira’s head was angled slightly so that he’d be able to lean forward and close the distance between his and Goro’s mouth with minimal effort. It was as if they’d already forgotten that Goro’s bloody mouth was the one already stuffed full. Goro’s hand was moving from its place on Akira’s arm towards his face, his bare fingers tracing Akira’s mouth. Akira’s lips parted and the tips of Goro’s index and middle fingers slipped in, tracing the bottom row of Akira’s teeth. Akira’s head moved forwards, slowly working his mouth downwards while Goro’s ring finger started to uncurl and make its way towards -

Futaba growled and leaned forward, jabbing at the volume control of the car radio until the whole car was shaking again with the cheesy enka Sojiro always liked to put on during long car rides. Sojiro winced but miraculously, he didn’t turn the volume down this time.

From the mirror, Futaba could see Goro push Akira away so hard that the back of Akira’s head bumped into the car window. Akira’s lips glistened with saliva, the silver strand connecting Goro’s fingers to Akira’s mouth going taut like a string before breaking as Akechi shuffled backwards. The impact unfortunately wasn’t enough to knock Akira out, but the sound of the crack seemed to have been enough to sober up Goro and kick him out of the reverie he’d worked himself up into. He settled down and nestled his head on top of Akira’s shoulder again.

No words were exchanged, no filthy acts were described. It was just the four of them in a car, with enka blasting from the speakers at 100 decibels. It was one of the more beautiful car rides that Futaba’s experienced in a long while.

In Futaba and Sojiro’s minds, the Incident ended after they reached Leblanc and let Akira and Goro off there before retiring back to the Sakura residence. It was something that they both were highly uncomfortable about discussing or remembering unless they were using it to make fun of Goro, and even then, they required a sufficient amount of alcohol in their bloodstream before they even deigned to bring it up.

“Out of sight and out of mind,” Sojiro muttered after Akira managed to help Akechi stumble into Leblanc before he drove away.

  


* * *

  
Akira’s arm around Goro’s waist while Goro’s own arm was looped around Akira’s neck seemed to have ignited the passion inside Goro again, the flames burning brighter and hotter than ever. The entire time since Akira saw Goro after he first woke up in the dental clinic, Goro’s been nuzzling into Akira’s body like Akira was a teddy bear, but now Goro’s added some new moves thanks to his being freed from the confines of the sea tbelt. Akira could feel an arm snaking around his torso and holding him close to Goro’s face, which was smushed against his chest. A leg slid in between Akira’s, a thigh rubbing suggestively against his.

“For someone who doesn’t even remember me, you sure do want me a lot,” Akira said, aiming for unaffected and landing a continent away. “Should I be flattered or insulted?”

Goro’s body had been contorted like an acute triangle but he stood up straight at that, the top of his head almost bashing into Akira’s chin had Akira not jerked back at the last second. His eyes, feverishly bright, stared into Akira’s as he exclaimed, “You’re my fiancé, aren’t you?”

That had been a mantra of sorts Goro had repeated in the car. At first, Akira’d thought he was trying to confirm it, saying it to see if maybe Futaba or Sojiro would say something to disprove the statement. Or maybe, he was simply repeating it to try and unclog his own memories. Even months after Akira popped the question and Goro accepted, Goro almost never refers to them as fiancés. It felt very much like Akira had been parched in a desert, only to be suddenly forced under a raging waterfall. Under normal circumstances, he’d be happy, but now…

“I could be lying. Maybe we’re just friends and I lied to get you to throw yourself at me.” Akira wasn’t even sure why he was pushing the issue, his words a little too sharp to be teasing. Goro just needed to sleep off the anesthesia; he’d be right as rain in the morning.

But the mental image of someone other than Akira approaching Goro and lying to him, and Goro believing him and being this affectionate? He knew he was being unfair, that Goro wasn’t an idiot, that he was treating Goro like a child, even in his own head. But he couldn’t get the image out of his head. If, say, the dentist had been the first one Goro saw, would Goro have reacted the same way? Rubbing his face against the dentist’s hands, leaning down to bring the dentist’s gloved fingers into his mouth? Even imagining it made Akira so angry he felt his hands clench into fists.

Goro took a deep breath, seemingly more to inhale Akira’s scent than to calm himself down, and then said, “When I saw you walk into that clinic, I didn’t know your name or who you are to me. I just saw the most beautiful man in the world. It was like time stood still, and we were the only two still moving. If anyone other than you said that we were together, I wouldn’t believe them. It’s because it’s you that I did. Kurusu Akira, I don’t know you, but I know I love you.”

Akira had to brace himself at the counter to keep himself from being physically bowled off his feet. Goro wasn’t pushing at him anymore with his body, seemingly content to lean his weight against Akira’s as if Akira was a wall. Against the fabric of his shirt and the tissues in his mouth, Goro’s words were muffled and slurred. But the intent was clear. The wall that Goro built around himself and his words had been knocked down by the amnesia, and the onslaught of his emotions, usually bottled inside, eroded the last of the ill will inside Akira's heart. He wound his arms tightly around Goro's shoulders, clutching closer to his chest the greatest Treasure he ever stole from his career as a Phantom Thief.

“Hey, what’s going on down there?”

Morgana slunk down the stairs, his ears perked forward in curiosity before flattening against his skull at the sight that greeted him. “Ugh,” he said, wrinkling his nose as if he smelled something bad. “Was he scared of the needles?”

Goro’s shoulders twitched — even with the anesthesia-induced memory loss, it seemed he could hear Morgana as clear as day — but he didn’t move his face from where he’d pressed it against Akira.

“He’s fine,” Akira replied for him, “but just a bit tired. I’ll help him upstairs so he can sleep it off.”

Akira's embrace seemed to have been the key to unlocking Goro's complicity and cooperation. He released his death grip, instead interlocking their fingers together and the two of them took the stairs together, step by step, until they reached the top. When Akira finally managed to tuck Goro into bed, he wanted nothing more than to crawl underneath the sheets next to him, maybe see how much more he could get from Goro. Nothing involve Goro's mouth, but Goro _did_ make an interesting suggestion when they were still struggling with each other in Sojiro's car, didn't he?

“You said you’d fuck my mouth with your fingers after we got home, you know,” Akira said to him. "Does the offer still stand?" 

A snore was his only reply. Goro was already unconscious, having fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Akira slipped his finger into his mouth and fished out the two balled-up tissues inside so that Goro didn’t accidentally choke on it in his sleep. He resisted the urge to let his fingers linger any further and turned away.

Morgana was crouched at the top step, looking at Akira with a critical eye. “You were going to let him do it?” He asked, managing to inject into his voice judgement so scathing that Akira felt it like a stake to his heart.

“Of course not. I was joking,” he lied instead and shot Morgana a charming smile. Morgana’s ears were still flattened against his head, and his eyes narrowed even more in suspicion.

“Sure,” he said. He opened his mouth again, but Akira interrupted him before he could berate Akira about his life choices.

“What kind of ice cream do you think Goro’d like?” Akira asked. “I think he’d like some when he wakes up later.”

“Nothing with nuts in it!” Morgana exclaimed, bounding forward and leaping effortlessly onto Akira’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s go look in the refrigerator for vanilla or strawberry. Goro likes the vanilla lattes Haru makes, right?”

Akira made his way down towards the kitchen, his partner-in-crime on his shoulder and his life partner peacefully snoring away upstairs. He couldn’t wait for Goro to wake up so they could continue where they’d left off.

(Unfortunately for the two of them, it took three days before Morgana gave them the okay for any sort of strenuous exercises involving Goro’s mouth.)

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is [wafumayo](http://twitter.com/wafumayo)


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